


Five Times Ray Made Fraser Laugh

by brynnmck



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-15
Updated: 2007-02-15
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/pseuds/brynnmck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times, laughter.  Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Ray Made Fraser Laugh

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Five Times Fraser Made Ray Laugh](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/23119) by sdwolfpup. 



> This is a companion piece to [](http://sdwolfpup.livejournal.com/profile)[**sdwolfpup**](http://sdwolfpup.livejournal.com/)'s [Five Times Fraser Made Ray Laugh](http://sdwolfpup.livejournal.com/331266.html). You can read this fic without having read hers, but why would you? Hers is brilliant. Thanks to SDW for the beta, and for writing such a gorgeous fic for me to play off of.

I.

Fraser wasn't sure when it had become habit for Ray to meet him after his Consulate shifts were over, but one evening when Ray was fifteen minutes late and Fraser had started to think he wasn't coming, he was stunned at his own disappointment.

"Sorry, Benny," Ray said when he finally arrived, unfolding his long legs from the driver's seat of the Riviera. He was parked illegally on the side street next to the Consulate, but when Fraser opened his mouth to point that out, Ray held up a warning hand. "It's Friday night, and it's after five. And after the day I've had, I will be more than happy to go toe-to-toe with the overzealous meter maid who's dumb enough to ticket one of Chicago's finest. Now come on, there's a great little Greek place around here, you're gonna love it."

And he was off before Fraser could object, parting the sea of pedestrians around him like some loudly-dressed Italian Moses, already painting a detailed picture of his evidently deeply trying day. Fraser fell in behind him, a bemused smile spreading across his face as Ray moved through the crowd with easy grace, ranting and gesticulating. Diefenbaker trotted beside him with an air of indifference that fooled no one.

By the time Ray launched into a veritable aria on the vendetta that the middle-aged woman in Evidence was apparently waging against him, Fraser had to turn his head to hide his chuckle.

Ray was onto him immediately. "Are you laughing at me?" he demanded, and his tone was incredulous but his eyes were twinkling. "You're wearing a tablecloth on your chest, and _you're_ laughing at _me_?"

"Of course not, Ray," Fraser told him solemnly, keeping a straight face with some effort. "I would never laugh at you."

Ray cackled and clapped him on the shoulder. "Just for that, Benny, you're buying dinner."

"All right." Fraser pulled off his Stetson and held up the bills inside for Ray's inspection. "I have thirty dollars, Canadian. Will that be sufficient?"

"What's that, like, five dollars American?" Ray scoffed.

"Actually, Ray, the current exchange rate is—"

"Never mind, I got it," Ray interrupted, pushing Fraser's hand away. "You try to give The Hun that pink stuff, he'll run you out anyway." He shook his head. "You really oughta get the Consulate to pay you in real money."

Fraser stiffened a little, affronted on behalf of his country, but then he noticed the gleam in Ray's eye. It had been quite some time since anyone had teased him, at least good-naturedly; he was pleased that he still recognized it when he saw it. "I'll take that under advisement," he agreed, and Ray grinned.

"Chicago ain't for the faint of heart, Benny," he said, turning his attention back to the path he was weaving through the rush-hour press. "You're lucky you got me here to keep you in line."

"I know," Fraser murmured, but Ray was already too far ahead to hear him.

 

II.

"No way, Benny," Ray said stubbornly, drawing the soft Italian wool through his fingers. "You paid a hundred and fifty bucks for this scarf, I'm gonna make sure you get your money's worth."

Fraser could feel himself blushing. "It was a gift, Ray. Could we please pretend that you don't know the price?" he asked plaintively. He had to admit, though, the scarf suited Ray even better than he'd expected, the deep jewel tones bringing out the warmth in his friend's skin and eyes.

Though he suspected he might be somewhat biased by the fact that there was currently much, much more skin on display than he'd dared allow himself to hope for.

"Nope," Ray answered, settling himself deeper into the tousled bedsheets. "We're just going to have to stay right here until I'm convinced I've done everything I can to make your investment worthwhile."

Fraser felt a slow spiral of heat unfurl in his abdomen, and smiled. "Ray…"

"Yeah, Benny?" Ray reached over, the end of the scarf dangling from one hand, dragging the fringe lightly over Fraser's bare stomach.

Fraser jerked reflexively, and the giggle slipped out before he could stop it.

Ray gaped at him. "You're ticklish?"

 _Oh, dear._ "No, I simply—"

But it was too late; one look at the evil light in Ray's eyes, the wide, delighted grin on his face, and Fraser knew he was lost. "I don't believe this," Ray crowed gleefully. "Leaps tall buildings in a single bound, treats bullet wounds like bee stings, and the Mountie is secretly _ticklish_? Oh, my God, this really is the best Valentine's Day ever."

He reached out with the scarf again, but Fraser intercepted his hand en route, redirected it to what he sincerely hoped was a sufficiently distracting location. Ray chuckled low in his throat.

"Cheater," he accused Fraser hoarsely.

"Whatever you say, Ray."

"You know, Benny, you gotta sleep sometime."

"Yes, Ray. But not till much… _much_ … later."

 

III.

Fraser shifted and slid on the Riv's smooth upholstery, trying to get an extra few inches to stretch out his left leg.

"So I go inside, right?" Ray was saying, the motion of his expressive hands only slightly hampered by the steering wheel in front of him. "And the whole place is just covered in foam, ceiling to floor, and not a sign of the suspect. God." He huffed out a breath. "I thought Welsh was gonna melt my shield into scrap metal."

Fraser rolled his head against the headrest and laughed, drifting warm on the sound of Ray's voice. "Well, that is quite a mental image, Ray."

"Oh, sure," Ray grinned, rolling his eyes, "it's hilarious now, but at the time…"

This time they laughed together, and Dief poked his head out from the back seat, shoving his cold nose against Fraser's ear. Fraser could hear the wolf's tail swishing against leather.

"Diefenbaker," he said, long-suffering, "you're still not getting any of Ray's brownie."

Dief whined, barely audibly, and applied his nose to Ray's ear this time.

"Aw, Dief, lay off," Ray complained, hunching his shoulder in self-defense. Then he broke off a significant piece of his brownie and shoved it into Dief's mouth, at which point Dief flopped down happily in the back seat and attacked his prize with canine vigor, growling at it all the while in what he obviously hoped was a menacing fashion.

"Ray, he's never going to learn if you keep rewarding his bad behavior," Fraser sighed.

Ray cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, because you _not_ rewarding it is working out so well."

"Well…" Fraser smiled before he could help it, ruefully lifting a shoulder. "True."

Ray chuckled and smiled back, and they sat in companionable silence for a while. Fraser let his thoughts wander, lulled by the darkness and the quiet car. He wasn't sure if seconds had passed or minutes before he realized with a shock that he hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention to the warehouse across the street; in fact, he'd almost entirely forgotten why they were there. He started guiltily, sat up straighter.

"Man, nothin' doin' over there," Ray mused, his eyes scanning the warehouse. "Though I gotta say, I wouldn't be doing business at three a.m. even if I _was_ a criminal. In fact, I'd make that one of my required perks."

Fraser hesitated, then focused on relaxing his tense muscles, one at a time, sinking slowly down into the seat again. He could rest; Ray was watching. "I think it's good that you're giving this some thought, Ray," he replied, folding his hands comfortably across his lap. "In case you have any unfortunate incidents with foam in the future that might require you to re-think your career path."

"That hurts, Benny," Ray told him. "That really hurts. You trust a guy with a secret…"

There was laughter in his voice. Fraser grinned, and closed his eyes.

 

IV.

The postcard stayed in a drawer of Fraser's desk, tucked away under the neat stack of his current case files. From time to time, he'd take it out and turn it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the lines of the photograph, the familiar scrawl on the back: HEAT ME UP. And he'd laugh a little, looking at it, but there was no joy in it at all.

 

V.

Fraser fought his way through the knee-deep snow with grim determination, Diefenbaker plodding loyally at his side. There was a time when he would have found the challenge exhilarating, but the truth was that neither he nor Dief were as young as they used to be, and though he never would have confessed it aloud, Fraser was _tired_ , bone-deep weary with cold and long, dark months and a seemingly endless parade of criminals intent on raping the land that was slowly crumbling under their influence. It was a fine line between solitude and loneliness, and he was on the wrong side of it tonight; even the stars seemed distant and cheerless in the clear sky. Lost in his thoughts and in the haze of exhaustion, he was well within sight of his cabin before he glanced up, and froze in his tracks.

The lights were on inside the small, familiar structure, spilling a pool of gold onto the porch and the snowy ground beyond, and in the ambient glow, he could see smoke rising from the chimney.

Diefenbaker began barking excitedly, bounding off through the drifts, leaving sprays of white in his wake. Fraser called after him, but his own heart was starting to pound with a hope he didn't dare name. One hand drifted to the gun at his belt, his legs automatically tensing for action as he moved more quickly through the snow, but even while his muscles preached caution, his instincts were whispering, _An enemy would set an ambush, not set the hearth fire burning…_

Dief beat him there by a good margin, hurling himself against the catch until the door swung open. Fraser closed the last hundred meters at a run and burst through the front door with the thrum of his own pulse loud in his head.

And there, stretched out in the chair next to the fireplace with his hands buried in the thick fur at Dief's neck, was Ray Vecchio. Tan and lanky, dressed for the cold in jeans and a heavy wool sweater, and a look in his eyes that stopped Fraser's heart, his breath, stopped everything.

"Don’t shoot," Ray told him, holding up both hands and grinning wide as the horizon. "I had to leave the good stuff behind this time."

Fraser could only blink at him, half-wondering if he was dreaming. Dief, who had been poised with both front paws on the arm of Ray's chair, jumped down and began running frantic laps in the short space between the chair and the doorway, his tail a white waving blur.

"Geez, Benny, say something, will ya?" Ray said finally, uncertainty shadowing the warmth in his tone.

Fraser licked his lips, trying to marshal his wits, and blurted, "I thought you were in Florida."

Ray shrugged. "Too much sun. Bad for the complexion."

"And Stella?" Fraser asked, through the tight knot in his throat.

Ray's smile quirked with a sort of wry regret that Fraser hadn't even realized he'd missed. "Too good for me. Bad for the marriage."

"I'm sorry, Ray." And he was, even though some small, selfish part of him was shouting relief.

"Yeah." Ray shrugged again. "We were, too." He paused, then, "I hear Kowalski got hitched."

"Yes," Fraser replied calmly, keeping his gaze steady on Ray's. "Several months ago, now. I had the honor of being his best man."

"Yeah, I heard that, too," said Ray. He was watching Fraser carefully.

"They're expecting their first child in the spring," Fraser continued, unable to keep from smiling a little as he remembered the excitement in his friend's voice over the phone, _Can you believe that, Fraser? I mean, can you frickin' believe that? This is like—I don't even know what this is like. I don't even think there's even a word for what this is like._ Ray had actually inadvertently hung up on Fraser twice in his elation.

Something eased in the line of the other Ray's shoulders. "Well, I gotta hand it to the kid—he works fast." He grinned. "Good for him."

Fraser nodded, letting his own smile widen. "I think so."

For long moments after that, silence stretched between them, punctuated by Dief's ecstatic panting as the wolf flopped down on the floor at Ray's feet.

"Well," Ray said at last. "Now that we're all caught up."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Yes."

More silence, during which Fraser opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of how to begin, until Ray leapt into the breach.

"Here's the deal, Benny," he rushed out. "Life is short, and it's a hell of a long way between Florida and Fortitude Bay. And I thought I could live with that, but it turns out that I can't, and Canada's home to you and at least we put in a toilet here and I could learn to, I don't know, mimic caribou mating calls or something and…" He hesitated, then, "I guess what I'm asking is—you got room for one more?"

Hope and fear—fear, because life didn't have a habit of handing him second chances—tangled in Fraser's throat so that he couldn't speak for a moment. "You want to stay here?" he asked eventually, fighting to keep his voice even.

Ray lifted a shoulder, his face set with dogged determination. "Here, Chicago, Bolivia, Zimbabwe—I don’t care. As long as you're there."

The tiny ember in the pit of his stomach that Fraser had been keeping carefully banked burst suddenly into a bonfire, burning through his restraint, spreading and unfolding until it suffused him entirely, like he was standing inside the sun. "I don't speak very good Spanish," he admitted. He was grinning like a fool, and for once in his life, he couldn't have cared less.

Ray smiled back with his whole heart in his eyes. "Bolivia's been done anyway," he said, elaborately casual as he levered himself to his feet.

"I've missed you," Fraser told him, watching his friend—his _partner_ —move closer, step by slow, deliberate step. The joy was so bright and sharp in Fraser's chest that he didn't know how he was going to survive it.

"I mean it, Benny," Ray insisted, his voice low. "You're not getting rid of me this time."

Fraser reached out with his right hand and linked his fingers with Ray's. "I don't have any desire to get rid of you, Ray. In fact, I'm feeling a very strong desire for just the opposite."

Ray put his other hand to Fraser's cheek; Fraser leaned into the touch. "Good," Ray said firmly. Then he grimaced. "There's no bowling in Canada, right?" he muttered, looking genuinely fearful, and for the first time in a long time, Fraser threw back his head and laughed.


End file.
